Blood Red Summer
by Dr. Sex Walrus
Summary: 42 students, three days, one objective: to kill each other off until only one remains. Battle Royale. AU, eventual Palex.
1. Prologue: Scarecrow, you ruined me

**Author's Note**: First off, I must thank the always helpful, endlessly patient, and ridiculously talented **They-Call-Me-Orange**, for without her this fic would be nothing more than a guilty pleasure idea and would never have seen the light of day, much less the interwubs. The woman is a fanfiction _machine_ that runs on _awesomeness_, so if you're not currently reading "The Icarus Complex," "Sepia," and everything else she's written, there's something wrong with you. Further thanks go to the Blood Brothers just for being an incredible band.

**Warning**: This story will contain the following horrific aspects: a whole lotta violence, some extremely minor (and hopefully few) Mary Sues, gayness, and slightly altered character histories.

**Disclaimer**: Battle Royale is the property of Koushun Takami, while its excellent film version belongs to Kinji Fukasaku. Degrassi belongs to several well-meaning Canadians who probably never intended for their characters to be fucked with in such a manner as they're about to be. I am making no money off of this and am doing it purely for my own pleasure. Now, on with the fic.

"Fine, go! Leave me and your fucking _daughter_ for that goddamn whore, see how long she sticks around once the money runs out, Jerry! 'Cause we both know it's gonna, nothing ever lasts with you, Jerry!" A crash, she can't tell what makes it, but his voice follows, "Fuck you, Emily! I'm not the only one around here with a problem, so get off your fuckin' high horse! And you're really one to talk about whores. Guess it takes one to know one, huh? Come on, _Emily_." Another crash, this one accented with broken glass, maybe the mirror, she thinks. "We both know the kid's not mine! You've been fucking around on me so long you probably don't even know which one of 'em she even belongs to!"

For a moment all is silent and the girl holds her breath, waiting. Finally, the woman speaks, voice low and deadly calm. "Get out." Another short silence, the girl tenses, waiting for the eruption she knows is coming. The woman doesn't disappoint when she begins to scream. "Get out! Get out, get out, _get the fuck out of here_, you goddamn fucking son of a bitch! We don't need you, we never needed you!" By this time she is screaming at the top of her lungs, completely hysterical, and the girl forces herself to wait for the final crash of the front door slamming signaling the man's departure before allowing herself to rush into her parents' bedroom and wrap herself around her mother, who is nothing more than a sobbing heap, collapsed under the weight of the fight and its undeniable finality. Alex knows without a doubt that her father denying her is the last thing she'll ever hear him say. She is 13.


	2. Dress my corpse up in a lowcut dress

Because I love my readers dearly and kinkily, all two of you, I'm double-posting and adding the first chapter tonight. Or it could be because the prologue is practically a drabble. Either way.

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"Alex, I've noticed in the last couple months your work has really been slipping. You used to be one of my top students, solid A's across the board, but now I'm lucky to get a C out of you. Is there something going on at home you want to tell me about?"

She _wanted _to tell him everything. About how a night of sobbing had led to a morning in the emergency room lobby after she had found her mother on the floor with a half-empty bottle of whiskey on one side of her and a completely empty bottle of sleeping pills on the other. How a seemingly endless string of asshole boyfriends had ensued, all of them named Mike or Ted or Stan, all of the relationships ending with Emily's tried and untrue drunken speech of regret and apology. "Jackasses, they're all jackasses. Oh, yeah, you go down this road, you're gonna find a jackass. God, Lexi, I'm so sorry, I've been a horrible mother, but this is it. I swear, from now it's just gonna be me and you, no more jackasses."

Alex wanted to tell the tall, blonde man with the kind eyes everything about Emily's latest boyfriend, Frank, the worst of the bunch by far. Alex wanted to say that Frank not only beat up on her mother, but her as well, that he grabbed her ass when she passed by and made disgusting comments when he thought Emily was too drunk to notice. She wanted to tell him all of this, but only said, "It's nothing, Mr. Simpson, just personal stuff. Congratulations on the engagement."

He gave her a sad, weary smile. "I hear that more and more these days. You're a good student, Alex, and a good kid in general. I know Degrassi's not the best school, it's overcrowded and understaffed, but there are still people who care. If you ever need anything, you know you can come to me, right? I've seen a lot of kids fall through the cracks because they wouldn't ask anyone for help. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you." Sensing that he had been too candid and had let some of his more jaded feelings concerning the Canadian education system out, he quickly tried to back-peddle. "Anyway, you're going to be late for your next class. Let me write you a note." Alex only mumbled a "nah," giving a small shake of her head as she backed out of the room and started down the hall. Right before the mass of students swallowed her up completely, she heard the teacher call out to her again.

"Alex! Thanks, for the congratulations." She turned, about to say something about being sure it would be a nice ceremony when the words died on her lips. A boy from her homeroom class spilled out of another room, wildly swinging a knife. The boy - JT Yorke, the name suddenly popped into her head - smashed straight into Simpson, slashing the knife across the back of his leg before taking off down the hall, dropping the knife on his way and barreling through students. Alex watched as another girl from her homeroom, Paige Michaelchuck, stopped to pick up the bloody knife, close, and pocket it before slipping into the crowd and out of Alex's sight. She skipped her next class to watch Simpson being taken away in an ambulance and then to talk to the cops when they finally showed up. Alex didn't mention Paige when she was questioned about what happened to the knife. That was the last day she saw Simpson or JT Yorke, but she paid more attention to Paige Michaelchuck from then on.


	3. The rats devoured her up in her sleep

**Author's Note: **All right, kids, chapter 2, after much pulling of hair and gnashing of teeth is finally done and up. Parts of this chapter are awkward, to say the least, but it's exposition, and exposition must be written! At least part of the reason this took so damn long was because my mp3 player crapped out on me and I've been downloading and burning albums that were only on it. Much thanks go to my CD player for stepping up in this time of need, Orange for the continuous gentle prodding, and, of course, my patient and fabulous readers. Without you guys, this wouldn't have gone past chapter 1.

Next up: the bus scene! Right now I'm thinking the best way to do it is broken up into smaller chapters focusing on specific characters rather than a single uber-chapter jumping around and giving people motion sickness. Last but not least, all your questions about the Paige/JT connection, the Simpson stabbing, and the altered characterization in this lovely world (stop looking so nervous, you'll like 'em) will be answered! All in good time, friends, all in good time.

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"4 7 2 3 9 8 5, I gotta breathe to stay alive, and 1 4 2 9 7 8, feels like I'm gonna suffocate. 14 16 22 is--Alex! Jesus, sneak up on a person much? You almost gave me a heart attack with your ninja stealth." 

Alex just smirked. "I wouldn't have figured Paige Michaelchuck for a Placebo fan."

"Well, you can blame your friend Ellie for that. And is the idea that someone like could enjoy the musical stylings of Placebo really that mind-blowing to you?" Paige smirked to take some of the edge out of her tone.

"Nah," Alex replied, bending to pick up the tub of fake butter topping Paige had dropped. She had originally come back to bust Paige's ass for slacking off when she was supposed to be on a hunt for butter refill (the coat room/supply closet/employee lounge wasn't that big, what the hell could she be doing for five minutes?), but when she overheard the other girl quietly singing under her breath she decided to just let Paige keep going and extend the olive branch of similar musical taste when she finally turned around and noticed Alex. "Besides, she did the same thing to me. She kept going on and on about this band, and I was so sick of it. I was over at her house this one time and she started in again, so I just stood up, grabbed the remote for her stereo and turned it on. Nothing's coming out and then I notice her headphones are still plugged in. She's saying something, _possibly_ a warning about pulling the plug on them, but before she can finish I just rip the damn thing out and this music comes absolutely _blaring_ out because Ellie is, of course, deaf as a post and needs to listen to everything at octogenarian level loudness. Long story short, the music woke up her mom, who was totally pissed and made sure we knew it, but it shut Ellie up and I went home that night with a few new CDs."

Paige laughed, a loud, open-mouth-grinning affair that caused Alex a small thrill at being the one to elicit it. They had been working together at the theater for only a few weeks and things were still in the awkward getting to know you stage. So far, nearly everything Alex knew about Paige had come from Ellie.

It was an odd friendship, the Queen of Degrassi and the goth/punk freak whose claim to much unwanted fame was from playing beard for Marco Del Rossi for nearly a year. Ellie had skirted the edge of the popular crowd during her time as Marco's girlfriend and it had been no secret that she and Paige didn't get along. Then, a few months after her staged dumping of Marco, all the scathing insults and general bitchiness between Ellie and Paige abruptly ceased. Although they were far from bosom buddies, that didn't stop the rumors that they had finally embraced their Sapphic sides, an idea Danny Van Zandt and Derek Haig were convinced of. However, it was clear Paige and Ellie had bonded over something that neither would reveal. What followed struck Alex more as the actions of old friends who had drifted apart over time but still cared enough to keep tabs on one another. It was a strange situation, but Alex found it fitting.

From Ellie, Alex learned the basic things she already knew, as well as things that scrumptiously watching Paige for two years couldn't tell her. Paige was effortlessly popular. Although she had stopped actively ruling it, the school she had once controlled with an iron fist continued to worship long after Paige stopped caring. Near the end of grade nine she abruptly quit the spirit squad she had created the year before, leaving her captain's position to her right hand and then best friend Hazel Aden, who had run the squad halfway into the ground. The only people who knew why she quit were Paige, Ellie, and JT Yorke, who stabbed Simpson a few days after Paige's resignation and hadn't been seen since. When Alex questioned her on whether the two events were related, Ellie denied it, but wouldn't say anything more.

Paige hung out with Terri McGregor, Ashley Kerwin, and Marco, but got along with everyone in their grade. Paige was smart, but not the overbearing kind of smart Liberty Van Zandt was. Paige had never had a boyfriend, but she had broken a date once in grade nine with Gavin "Spinner" Mason and spent an evening in the company of JT Yorke at the beginning of that same year. The date was a bet, but Paige and JT had become close friends afterward, a fact that shed somelight on the blonde's actions the day JT stabbed Simpson, but not much. In the end, Paige Michaelchuck was still just as much of a mystery to Alex as she had been before. A mystery who was currently trying to get her attention. Shit.

"Alex? Earth to Alex. Are you even listening to me?"

Alex affected a look of mock offense. "But of course, my queen. You were at the Dot with Ellie having a mochaccino or some crap, black coffee for the Dark One-"

Paige cut her off, "You do realize she'd totally kick your ass for making fun of her pure black coffee, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Alex grinned, "but her royal gothiness knows that only elderly women and children of the night drink coffee straight up black and she'll be mocked accordingly for it. Besides, she rips on my beverage of choice all the time, I owe her."

"Ooh," Paige quirked a brow and smirked. "And what might Degrassi's resident badass enjoy? Some secret shame, a girly-girl smoothie perhaps?"

Alex returned the smirk and shook her head. "Not even close. Think harder, what would Ellie make fun of?"

"Ellie's cynical and sarcastic, she's required by law to make fun of everything. Come on, give me a hint."

"Okay, she does. But if the queen bee wants a hint, I suppose I can give her one. Let me think." As she tapped her chin and tried to look deep in thought, Paige rolled her eyes and snickered, then abruptly stopped and Alex heard an "A-_hem_" and the click of a heel. She turned around to find their supervisor, Meeri, standing directly behind her, arms crossed, foot tapping, and her face set in the mixture of stern, mildly annoyed, and exasperated Alex knew her best for.

"Nice to see you two having such a deep and stimulating conversation, but I'd rather see you working. Paige, the butter dispenser's not going to refill itself. Alex, I'm sure _something_ could use all the concentration you're currently giving Paige." With that, she spun around on her heel and strolled swiftly back to her office.

As they walked back to their post, Paige spoke up. "Only that woman could get such a thrill from managing a concession stand."

Although slightly embarrassed by Meeri's comment, Alex said, "She power-walked. Paige, the woman actually _power-walked_.The only people I've ever seen do that have been at least 65 and wearing jogging suits, complete with headbands."

Paige, with much effort and a small swat to Alex's arm, managed to hold in her laughter. "Don't make me laugh! She'll come back out here and do it again and then I'll get fired for laughing in my boss' face."

Alex frowned. "You're right, you do laugh way too loud."

Paige slapped her arm again and smiled. "I have to laugh when I'm around you, Alex. I can't seem to help myself."

Alex felt something in her chest clench as she tried to smile back and replied, "That's how I suck 'em in. First the laughing, then comes the initiation into my all-female gang." Paige just smiled again and shook her head before turning around to refill the butter.

The rest of their shift, about an hour and a half that seemed like an eternity to Alex, was spent in bursts of heavy activity that tapered off into dry spells of cleaning and small talk, which had Alex convinced she'd weirded Paige out with the girl gang thing. _Where the hell did that even come from,_ she'd asked herself while wiping down a counter, finding the answer to be the part of her brain that just spit out stupid, off-the-wall shit when she was trying to impress someone. The self-deprecating line of thought had continued until they punched out and after, as she and Paige walked out of the mall and prepared to go their separate ways. As Alex started toward the bus stop, Paige called out to her. "Hey, Alex, you need someone to drive the getaway car?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry, what I was trying to say was, do you need a ride home?" Paige smiled, and Alex felt the clench in her chest again, but ignored it.

"I believe that's what the bus is for. Besides, I'm way out of your way."

"Hon, I insist. No one should have to take Toronto public transportation at 10 pm. Besides, I don't even pay for gas, come on."

Alex couldn't argue with Paige, the bus sucked, especially at night. She could and did, however, spend the rest of the night refusing to think about why getting a ride from the blonde felt like such a privilege.


	4. Camoflage, camoflage: Oleander

All right, kids, the bus scene has arrived! And because I want to, I'm breaking it into character chapters. I don't know how many I'll do, so we're just gonna wing it for a while and see what comes out.

As usual, thanks go first and foremost to the always encouraging and helpful **They-Call-Me-Orange**, as well as everyone who reviewed. Keep 'em comin', kids. The more reviews I get the faster my Walrusy brain churns out material.

Matt stifled a yawn and glanced around the bus. After the initial excitement of boarding and finding seats, most of the 40 students had gone back to sleep, as most people were apt to do at 4:30 in the morning. A few had the small reading lights above their seats on, Matt saw one or two sets of headphones, and he could even make out a few hushed voices, one of which belonged to Toby Isaacs.

Toby was one of his best students, but while he excelled with computers, he fell short with other students. Toby had a rap sheet of alleged behavioral problems starting around a month before Matt came to Degrassi that didn't amount to much beyond frequent absences, periodic lateness, and the occasional smartass remark in class. Small stuff that Matt himself was guilty of at 17 years old, but it was enough to get Toby labeled as a "troublemaker" and "possible risk." A completely ridiculous assessment, but try telling that to Daphne Hatzilakos.

She had been acting principal when Matt had started, and somewhere in the two years following "acting" had turned into "permanent." Degrassi wasn't the best school to begin with, the over-crowding left everyone breathing down each other's necks and created a tense atmosphere that Hatzilakos didn't help with her over-zealous attention to security and Big Brother-esque attitude toward students who stepped out of line or acted strangely in the least little way. When Matt had started at Degrassi, Hatzilakos had given him a list of students who had been involved in an "incident" the prior month. Toby Isaacs, she said, was already "acting out" and should be watched especially closely. Several of the students - including Paige Michaelchuck and Alex Nunez, who were both awake, reading and listening to music respectively - had never exhibited any behavior out of the ordinary. Both girls were quietly intelligent, but where Paige seemed to have a loose knowledge of everyone, Alex kept mostly to herself, he saw her almost exclusively in the company of Ellie Nash up until a few months ago when she suddenly started to appear next to Paige. As of late, the two seemed almost attached at the hip.

Matt liked to watch his students, to get to know them with few interactions. An added bonus was how it never failed to make them mildly uncomfortable. Degrassi was his first job, and as low man on the totem pole among both faculty and students he'd had plenty of time to observe both as he settled into his new environment. Almost every teacher on staff had some sort of vice or personal issue that helped them get through the day. Laura Kwan, for instance, had slept with about half the faculty since her husband had died. Jennifer Suave was hopelessly in love with Kwan and drank compulsively. Darryl Armstrong was a gambler who had recently lost his house as well as his family to his debt. The most fucked up, in Matt's eyes, was Dan Perino. Perino was a history teacher with a habit of getting rough with his male students and too close to the females. Matt was convinced Perino was sleeping with a girl from Oleander's Class B MI period, Heather Sinclair.

It was a touchy subject, Sinclair had a reputation of being one of the sluttier girls in Class B, and Oleander had caught a few of her interactions with Perino between classes. While Dan's frequent degree of physical contact with the girl made Matt suspicious and, he knew it wasn't enough to bring it to Hatzilakos' attention. Daphne's zeal for security was matched only by her knowledge of the law. Completely convinced that Degrassi could be sued at the drop of a hat, the woman had become a living textbook on the subject of civil litigation. Voicing his suspicions would only get Matt a long lecture on slander, false accusations, and veiled threats about people who stir up trouble for their older, more respected colleagues.

And so it went. Matt kept his mouth shut and one eye on Perino, and as time went on the Canadian school system took its toll. Matt started smoking and gave up the idea of teaching yoga as an optional course when the magnitude of his workload hit him. Being a teacher had gone from lifelong dream to questionable career choice for Matt Oleander in less than two years.

But it wasn't all bad. Despite their personal issues, his fellow teachers were genuinely kind, likeable people, with the exception of Dan Perino, who watched Matt as closely as Oleander watched him. The others did their jobs to the best of their abilities and accepted him easily, if only to stick him with all possible chaperone duties, which was how he found himself on a bus to New York at five in the morning and, for some reason, convinced life was going to start looking up after the trip. His last thoughts before sleep overtook him were of spending the summer away from Toronto, maybe the Yukon.


	5. Camoflage, camoflage: Hazel

**Author's Note:** Hey, kids. This one's a short 'un because, well, it's Hazel, the single least-developed character and underused character on Degrassi. And don't go giving me that "But Andrea Lewis is a poor actress!" crap. Have you _seen _Miriam McDonald since season 3? Girl got all purty and her acting chops went straight to hell. Okay, I'm done with my diatribe.

This biotch goes straight out to **Dr. Evil 99 **and **Orange**. My fellow doctor hit me up with four, _four, i say!_ reviews last night, and Orange pimped me out to him. For everyone else who reviewed, I love you and your reviews dearly and kinkily, so keep it up.

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Hazel Aden stood, stretching cramped muscles, and started making her way slowly down the aisle of the bus toward the restroom, scanning the seats as she went. Toby Isaacs smirked at her and Hazel rolled her eyes. Toby had had a minor crush on her since they'd wound up sharing a detention session the year before and Hazel had kissed him on a bet from Spinner Mason. Toby was a nice guy and the crush was flattering in a weird, kind of creepy way, but Toby was also a major geek and there was no way in hell Hazel would be caught dead with him. High school politics was a bitch and mingling with those socially below her was the quickest way to end up in Siberia. The only person who seemed to get away with hanging out with freaks and losers was Paige Michaelchuck.

In grade 9 Paige had gone from captain of the Spirit Squad and master manipulator to…nothing overnight. At least, that's what Hazel had thought, but Paige was like a weed: she bounced back from any and all things effortlessly, getting bigger and stronger with each return. Paige had given up everything that made her Queen Bee, but instead of being dropped right along with those things, the girl had actually become _more _popular. It had been that way for the last two years, Paige mixed with everyone, hung out with outcasts like Ellie Nash and Alex Nunez as well as popular people like Marco Del Rossi and Terri McGregor, and she flat out refused to play the game. Hazel was fucking sick of it. She liked Paige - it was damn near impossible not to find the blonde charming, even if she was your worst enemy - but this was going to be their last year at Degrassi and Hazel was damn well going to make it hers. As she passed Spinner's seat she saw her ticket to the top sitting next to him.

Jimmy Brooks. Tall, dark, and handsome, not to mention smart, athletic, and the most popular guy at Degrassi. It was a perfect match except for one thing: Jimmy had been hung up on Ashley Kerwin for as long as Hazel could remember. The two had dated for years, touted far and wide as the Golden Couple until, at the end of grade eight, Ashley had thrown a party that completely decimated her social life. After taking ecstasy of all things, Ashley proceeded to make out with Sean Cameron (a major hottie with a bad boy thing going on, but way below Ashley's social strata) and then dump on everyone she knew, humiliating Jimmy and earning the then-legendary Wrath of Michaelchuck. Ash had fucked up, _badly_, and she paid the price. A summer in rehab was followed by the Social Siberia treatment from Paige, who convinced or threatened everyone else to go along with it. Jimmy had tried to get back together with her twice that year, but Ashley had shot him down and dumped him again, respectively, before she hooked up with Craig Manning at the end of the year. Jimmy hadn't dated anyone since and Hazel had figured it was because of some bizarre torch he still held for Ashley Kerwin that had kept him single for so long. But the grace period was officially over and Hazel was done sitting around waiting for Jimmy to get over Ashley. He may have thought he didn't want a girlfriend, but after this trip he was damn well going to get one. Hazel was sick of playing second fiddle to people who didn't even care about being first. This was going to be her year to shine, come hell or high water. 


	6. Camoflage, camoflage: JT

Okay, it's been a while…kind of a long while, but to make it up to you, this is a long-ass chapter focusing on everyone's favorite oft emasculated, stack o' dimes carryin', Simpson stabbin' mystery man JT Yorke. One more chapter after this and we're off the bus, then the real fun begins. Forgive me for my horrible schedule? No? How 'bout for that really bad pun I made about alligators? Not that either? Damn. 

Anyway, this one, as usual, goes out to **Orange** as well as my fellow mad scientist **Doc Evil **and, you know, anyone else who reviewed. Writing-enhancing music was basically a bunch of Bloc Party and Tegan and Sara's new album "The Con." Go buy it, shit is _amazing._ Oh, yeah, please review. It makes for...longer chapters, I guess, certainly not quicker.

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"Tobes, she called me herself and _asked _me to come back. Granted I only conveniently made it in time for the class trip, but I still made it. It's obvious she never forgot about the chemistry we had. Besides, the whole reason I left Degrassi in the first place is for her."

"For her or because of her?"

JT continued on, pointedly ignoring the remark. "Face it, buddy, Paige Michaelchuck wants me."

Toby scoffed. "Shit, JT, the only girl who's ever 'wanted' you was Liberty, and even she got over your alleged charm. Paige was probably just trying to be nice, or - much more likely - she had an ulterior motive, one that _doesn't _involve getting in your pants. And not to burst your bubble, but I heard she bats for the home team now, if you catch my drift."

JT rolled his eyes at Toby's combination smirk and eyebrow waggling. "Sorry, Tobes, my bubble is still firmly intact, despite your best efforts. And not only did you already tell me about the Paige "Dykelchuck" rumor, you also told me Danny and Derek started it, just like they start _every _lesbian rumor at Degrassi. The Afro Twins' rumor mill is bullshit, Toby, and so is you harping on me like this about Paige. Just wait 'til this trip's over and we'll see who's got high school royalty on his arm and who's still pining over Emma Nelson."

Toby shook his head, scowling slightly. "Whatever, JT, just don't come crying to me when Alex Nunez kicks your ass for coming on to her girlfriend."

And that was the end of the conversation. JT felt bad for the Emma dig, it was a low blow, but Toby had been acting like an asshole for the past week and a half, slipping in little jibes and passive aggressive crap. It started when JT announced he'd be returning to Degrassi in the fall and going on the Niagara Falls trip with the rest of their class. Toby had been excited until JT told him what had finally changed his mind about coming back to the school. Toby had spent the past two years trying - and failing miserably - to get JT to even consider talking to Hatzilakos, then one phone call from Paige and he was practically enrolled. He felt bad about it, knew how it must have seemed to Toby, but love made you do crazy things.

Once upon a time, James Tiberius Yorke had been a name synonymous with mischief, practical jokes, and all things funny. He had prided himself on being a legendary class clown, but it didn't stop guys like Spinner Mason and Johnny DiMarco from kicking his ass whenever they felt like it. Then things started to look up, his social stock started to rise, he became friends with Paige Michaelchuck. It started like most of Paige's friendships, she needed something and he was the means to an end to get it. In this case, it was $40 to fix a rather heinous haircut. Spinner and Hazel Aden agreed to hand over the money if Paige would go on a date with someone of their choosing, and JT had been the lucky sucker. It had been excruciating at first. Paige had shown up all but wearing a bag over her head, refused to even attempt to hold up her end of the conversation, and stared at her watch nearly constantly. Paige allowed him to pick the movie, saying she didn't want to see anything she might actually enjoy with him tainting it, so he chose the obligatory crappy slasher flick and proceeded to crack jokes the entire time; about half-way through, Paige actually laughed.

They ate in the mall's food court, not the most romantic of settings, but Paige didn't seem to care that the only thing French were the fries. All in all,, it was an enjoyable night, but when JT suggested a repeat, Paige shot him down. She gave him the usual speech about how he was a nice guy (or in her words, "not as big of a geek as I thought") but just not her type, then she did something unusually generous, she offered him a leg up. An invitation to sit at Paige Michaelchuck's lunch table was not something one turned down, but JT was hesitant. He already had Paige on his side, Jimmy didn't seem to care one way or the other, he was confident he could win Hazel over in time, but Spinner couldn't stand him. JT wasn't positive, but he thought spending every day at lunch playing personal comedian for the girl Spinner lusted after might just piss him off. Still, Paige was offering him free access to the inner circle, and Spinner wasn't the only one who was interested in her. JT had seen a different side to Paige on the date, something underneath all the snide remarks and popularity-obsessed persona she projected to the world at large. So he accepted the offer, and from then on he'd spend an hour charming the girls, getting the odd chuckle out of Jimmy, and feeling Spinner's eyes glaring red hot death into him. Within a few months, though, the paradigm shifted again.

Paige had never been a nice person. She'd show the occasional act of random kindness, but for the most part, she kept her good side locked up tight while the manipulative, plotting, rules-with-an-iron-fist side of her ran the school. She went through a particularly nasty period where no one, not even Hazel, escaped her wrath. Even Ashley Kerwin, who'd been flying under Paige's radar since she'd gone goth, got both barrels in the middle of English one day. Then, a few days after that, it was over, as if the entire week of super bitchery had never happened. What came next was even more baffling. Queen Bee, Bitch Goddess Supreme Paige was replaced by Bizarro Paige. She was quieter, almost withdrawn, and the bad blood that still lingered between her and Ashley was officially dissipated. The obsessive drive to maintain her status as number one was gone as well, but Paige remained Queen Bee, though it seemed she couldn't have cared less. Bizarro Paige also stopped caring who she was seen in public with, meaning JT's friendship with her went past lunch and pissed Spinner off even more, if his increased harassment of JT was any indication. It was months before JT finally found out what had brought about the change in Paige, and then everything went to hell.

Spinner, being your typical high school bully, wasn't the brightest guy, nor was he the most mature. When these traits were combined with his die-hard conviction that JT had stolen his woman you got a lot of stupid bully antics. One of Spinner's favorites was to push JT into a girls' bathroom whenever the opportunity arose. It never ceased to make the big oaf laugh and almost always resulted in JT being humiliated and sometimes getting his ass kicked by a pissed off girl. The last time, however, was different. Instead of coming face to face with a pissed off soccer player, JT found Paige. Paige crying and looking like she was struggling not to hyperventilate. He'd never known anything that was able to reduce his normally cool, collected, and snarky friend to a quivering, tearful mess, so after a moment of shocked staring, he went to her, put his arm around her shoulders, and tried out some "there, there"s that sounded incredibly lame to himself but seemed to actually help Paige, so he threw in a few "it's gonna be okay"s, and after a few seconds she had her breathing under control and shrugged off his arm, muttering her thanks and sounding embarrassed.

"No problem. What are friends for, right?" He took a deep breath and steeled himself for Paige's wrath before venturing on. "So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?"

She turned, her face a mixture of anger and disgust he was sure would've reduced lesser men to tears. "No, JT, I'm pretty sure I _don't _want to tell you." She grimaced before her face softened and she let out a sigh. "Shit. I'm sorry, JT, you didn't deserve that. I'm just stressed about thr basketball game tonight."

He frowned, not understanding why a game would have her so worked up. "Why should you be stressed? You're not even playing."

She turned back toward the sink, bracing her arms and taking a deep breath. "It's not the game, it's who's going to be there."

Then it hit him. Paige had some jerk off ex-boyfriend from the other team, Bardell, who'd cheated on her or something and she'd have to see him tonight. It explained everything, why she kept blowing off Spinner, her week of major bitchiness, and now the asshole was going to be on her home turf.

"Whatever he did, Paige, cheat on you or treat you like crap or whatever, you're way better than him and you deserve better. He's an ass."

She let out a short bark of laughter that sounded just on the edge of hysterical before looking him dead in the eye. "Dean didn't cheat on me, JT. He raped me."

He wanted to kill. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on sensory overload as adrenaline rushed through him and a tiny voice in the back of his mind steadily grew louder, singing for blood and urging him to make the bastard feel everything that Paige had felt. He didn't hear anything else Paige said, didn't hear her calling after him as he stalked out of the bathroom and down the hall, stride purposeful, fists clenching and unclenching. All he knew was that he had to find Sean Cameron. Although they didn't hang out as much as when Sean was dating Emma Nelson, JT still considered Sean one of his closest friends, and Sean always carried a knife on him. He said it was a holdover from his delinquent days in Wasaga Beach, running around on the streets with kids like him whose parents were too drunk or indifferent to keep an eye on them, breaking windows, stealing, getting into fights. Sean said he kept to knife to remind himself of all the shit he used to pull and how it almost ruined his life.

When JT finally found him, the period was over and Sean was just coming out of biology.

"Sean! Hey, I need to borrow your knife."

"Not so loud, JT. Jesus, you want the whole school to hear?" Sean looked around, as if to confirm that the entire school had not, in fact, heard JT, turned back once he was satisfied, and resumed speaking in a low voice. "What do you need it for?"

JT rolled his eyes feigning cool while his heart jack hammered in his chest, amazed at the ease with which the lie flowed. "Fucking Spinner zip-tied my locker again. Asshole."

"Yeah," Sean nodded, "he can be a real dick sometimes. Why don't you just get a pair of scissors? Your locker's right next to Kwan's room, right?"

"Already tried that, they were too big. And not sharp enough. Come on, man, I really need my algebra homework. It's already late from two days ago, Armstrong's gonna be pissed if I don't have it again. I promise I'll get it back to you after next period."

Sean sighed, "All right, fine, but make sure I get it back by the end of the day, and don't let anyone see it." He shoved his hand into his pocket, dug out the knife, pressed it into JT's open palm and took off down the hall in the opposite direction.

JT ducked into an open classroom to practice opening and closing the knife, he wanted to be ready for Dean, wanted him to know what was coming as soon as he saw JT. Fumbling the blade could give Dean time to run or, even worse, take the upper hand. Suddenly students were coming into the room. He had to het out before anyone saw the knife, which was open and clenched in his fist. He stutter-stepped out the door, too preoccupied with getting caught to watch where he was going. Then it happened, he slammed into a body, buried the knife in someone's back. Fingers still firmly wrapped around the knife, he pulled back, watching the metal slide out red, covered in blood. The body dropped to its knees, one hand reaching back to fumble at the wound, as JT kept backing away before he broke into a full-on run, slamming through the crowd of students and dropping Sean's knife along the way. He never saw Paige pick up the weapon, close, and discreetly pocket it, nor did he catch Alex Nunez watching her the entire time.

Toby told him about the incident later in the day, after everyone had been sent home and classes cancelled for the rest of the week. He admitted that he had been the one who stabbed Simpson, but refused to say anything more than that it had been an accident. Despite Toby's best efforts, JT refused to return to the school, sure that a trap was waiting for him, police hiding out in Raditch's office waiting to haul him off to prison.

He spent weeks lying to his grandmother, claiming to have mono and refusing to let her, Toby, or anyone else - not that there was anyone, not even Paige - into his room. When neither the police nor an enraged Simpson came calling, JT's paranoia slowly started to ease. After a month and a half he transferred to another school across town and life found its rhythm again. He made it a point not to draw attention to himself at his new school. He did his homework, talked to a few people, made some "business hours" friends as he called them, and erased all traces of the attention getting class clown he had been at Degrassi. The only true friend he still had was Toby, and though he could see the effect his abrupt leaving and secrecy had on Toby, who had grown bitter, cynical, and withdrawn, he knew he couldn't tell the truth. Stabbing Simpson had been an accident, but his original plan to kill Dean was definitely some kind of federal offense and Toby didn't need that kind of thing weighing him down like it weighed on JT.

And now, two years later, he was back at Degrassi. JT thought it fitting that the very same person who was responsible, sort of, for his fleeing the school was also the one to bring him back to it. But everything was different, only a few people even remembered who he was, Toby was doing his best to be a complete bitch, and Paige had barely given him a second glance since the trip had begun. He hadn't expected her to fall into his arms, but something more than a brief greeting and hug _had _been anticipated. Maybe Toby was right, maybe she was just trying to get to get the class back together for the yearbook or something. No. No, that was the kind of cynical, pessimistic bullshit that Toby thrived on now. Paige was just giving him space to settle in and let things calm down some before they caught up, the bus was way too noisy to hold a proper conversation…except she was talking to Alex Nunez, who was so _not _Paige's girlfriend even though Paige had her hand on Alex's shoulder and was leaning down closer than JT thought she needed to in order to hear the other girl and apparently she'd baked cookies for Alex, something she'd never done for him and - fuck. Fucking Toby putting stupid, paranoid fucking thoughts in his head. Paige wasn't gay, and by the time this trip was over Toby and everybody else would know it when the guy no one remembered walked off with the most popular girl in school.


	7. Camoflage, Camoflage: Paige, pt 1

First half of a double post because I'm awesome and this one is incredibly long. I know I said this would be the last of the bus chapters, but I lied. Like a Persian rug. Big thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially **Doc **and **Orange **because I keep them chained up in the basement solely to stroke my ego and assure me that I am the most beautiful walrus in all the land. I don't know when my next post will be, as I'm moving on Monday, so I'm leaving you all with a double dose of Paige to tide you over...and because she just wouldn't shut up. I promise next time really is the last of the backstory/bus scene action. I think I've left these poor Canadians on this bus for three months and I am a terrible person for that. Sorry, kids.

* * *

"You're staring again." 

"Jesus, Ter, scare a person much? Why does everyone think it's okay to sneak up on _me, _anyway? I thought I was too intimidating to sneak up on."

Terri McGregor rolled her eyes before replacing her bookmark and turning to Paige. "You _were _intimidating, now you're not. Now you're likeable, and likeable people aren't intimidating, and I couldn't have snuck up on you, Paige, I'm sitting right next to you."

"Yes, but you do it so quietly, it's almost like you're not even there."

"Which gives you the perfect opportunity to stare at a certain dark-haired mystery."

Paige scowled and Terri gave back her very best 'we both know I'm right' smirk. "I was not staring at anyone, I was merely looking in the general direction of the right side of the bus."

Terri's smirk faded into understanding. "Paige, it's all right, your secret's safe with me."

Paige felt her heart start to speed up and her throat suddenly felt dry. She hadn't been that obvious had she? Could anyone else tell? Did they all know she--

"I won't tell Ash you have a crush on Craig. It's not like you're the only one."

Oh. "Uh, thanks, Terri. You're a good friend." Terri smiled and Paige returned the gesture weakly, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. For a moment she'd almost gone into full-on Panic Attack Mode, a state she hated with a passion, but Terri wasn't quite as observant as she thought. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Paige Michaelchuck, deeply closeted lesbian, was in the clear, and so was her equally hidden crush on Alex Nunez.

* * *

Of course she'd heard the rumors, it was impossible not to. They'd started the year before when she started hanging out with Ellie Nash. She always thought she was fine with it, she still loved Dylan after he came out and she'd even set him and Marco up, but things were apparently different when _you _were the one having the illicit affair. At first she'd been pissed, wanted to track down the assholes who'd started the whole thing and have Spinner beat the crap out of them, then the anger faded and she just wanted it all to go away and let her get on with her life, then she finally went to talk to Ellie about it. Of course, Ellie was dealing with the situation in a very Ellie-like way: with logic and a grain of salt. 

"It doesn't really bother me. I mean, it used to, when Marco was first coming out. I used to wonder if people saw me differently, like since he was gay I must be too because we're best friends and we 'dated.' And people did think that, and they thought Ash and I were dating for a while, and now they think it's you and me. That's the thing, no matter what I say or do, there's always going to be some moron who assumes just because I don't have a boyfriend and my best friend is gay that must mean I'm gay. I know that asshole's always going to exist and it has nothing to do with me, he's just too insecure and pathetic to get a girlfriend so he thinks we're all dykes. That's not my problem and I've stopped letting it be. People are stupid, Paige. They're always going to be stupid, it's just a matter of not letting it get to you. Besides," here she stopped and gave Paige a pointed look, "you and I both know there's nothing wrong with being gay."

Of course Ellie was right. She had an irritating habit of being right. Whenever Paige heard herself referred to as Paige Dykelchuck a few too many times in the halls she'd think back to what Ellie had said, people were stupid and that wasn't Paige's problem. She knew who she was, what other people thought didn't matter. But as they say, nothing gold can stay, and soon Paige was thrown into yet another existential crisis.

It happened slowly, almost imperceptibly, but her very platonic feelings toward Ellie somehow managed to shift into non-platonic territory. The things she liked about the girl were suddenly more likeable, better. She wasn't just the witty, intelligent, genuinely cool girl Paige had found at her worst, hiding in the girl's bathroom with a compass behind her back and blood running down her arm, now Ellie was this smart to the point of intimidation, funny, down to Earth person who always knew what to say to help Paige with any problem she had, and it scared her. Paige Michaelchuck wasn't used to be intimidated by anyone and she most definitely did _not _get flustered for no damn discernable reason. So she went to the authority on all things Ellie Nash, Marco Del Rossi.

* * *

"You want my honest opinion?" 

"Yes. What _is _this? I mean, is it her, did she get smarter or something? Did I get dumber? I may not be the biggest bitch at Degrassi anymore, but I don't recall misplacing my unflappable demeanor when I put away my bitch bone, so what the hell is going on?"

"I think I know what your…problem with Ellie is." He paused, searching for the right words, finally settling on the direct route. "You're crushing on her. Hard, from the looks of it."

"What? Marco, in case you forgot, I'm not the same sex lover in the family, that would be Dylan. Remember him, I set you guys up?"

"Paige, when was the last time _you _had a boyfriend?"

"What does that honestly have to do with anything?"

He stared at her and Paige was almost positive his expression interpreted into words would say "Damn, but you Michaelchucks are dense sometimes." And then she got it. _Really _got it.

"Look, just because I haven't dated a guy in a while-"

"Paige, it's been over a year and you used to be totally boy crazy, complete with crazy arm waving. All I'm saying is that it's okay if you're not, you know, totally straight."

Who did he think he was? It was thanks to her that he even _had _a boyfriend. "Is this what you do when you're not making out with my brother? You keep some running tab of everyone you think is gay? Newsflash, Marco, I do not like girls, I _cannot_ like girls. This isn't me, this isn't supposed to be my life! Being a lesbian definitely does not fit into my five-year-plan! Marco, what am I going to tell my dad? I mean, he was okay with Dylan, but after that he still had me. I mean, no one said it out loud, but we all knew it was my responsibility or duty to the family or what the hell ever to go to university, meet a great guy, get married and do the two-point-five-kids-and-a-golden-retriever thing. He's going to be crushed…" The anger and indignation that had fueled her rant was gone now, leaving only fear and a little bit of nausea in its wake.

Marco gingerly put his hand on her back and rubbed it up and down slowly. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Ellie _did_ get smarter, you're probably just overreacting, I'm sorry I said anything."

Paige sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose, she could feel a monster headache coming on and she wanted to face it in the comfort of her own bedroom. Rising to her feet, she turned to Marco, who looked like someone had just shot his puppy. It struck her as funny, considering she was the one whose world had been turned upside down. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Marco, I was totally out of like and you were only trying to tell me your opinion. I need to go home and think about all of this for a while."

Marco stood up, Italian manners kicking in, and walked her downstairs to the front door. "I'm sure it's nothing, Paige, it'll probably all blow over in a few days and then you can mock me relentlessly for daring to suggest something so ludicrous."

She smiled at him, feeling weary. "I'm sure you're right. Still, consider your date tonight cancelled. I'm suddenly in the mood for some Michaelchuck sibling bonding."

* * *

"Paige, you're not gay, trust me. I love Marco, but you and I both know he has a tendency to jump to conclusions a little easily. Remember you told me about the time he thought Spinner was in love with him?" 

Paige couldn't suppress the laugh that came up out of her. It sounded tired and just a bit this side of hysterical, but she went with it anyway. "Yeah, poor Spin was subjected to Marco's first 'It's not you, it's me' speech when all he was trying to say was that he was okay with Marco being gay. God, Marco was so embarrassed he couldn't even look at Spinner for three days. Ellie had to practically lock them in a closet together before Marco would get over it." She chuckled again and Dylan frowned. "What? What was that little grimace thing?"

"Okay, you're definitely into Ellie."

"Just a minute ago you were telling me there's no way I'm gay and now you say I'm 'definitely into Ellie.' What the hell, Dylan, this back and forth thing is not helping me." She scowled and he rolled his eyes.

"It's in your eyes. They got this little sparkle in them when you said her name, kind of like…"

"Yeah, kind of like yours do when you talk about Marco, great."

"Yeah." An awkward silence fell over the room before Dylan spoke again. "But it still doesn't mean you're gay. It's just a little crush, it'll go away. Hey, you think I've never been attracted to a woman before? That Mom never was?"

"Oh, please, Mom was way too perfect and uptight to even let the idea cross her mind."

"Okay, you're right. Mom was the patron saint of heterosexuality and repressed desires, but my point is that no one is completely gay or straight, we just say we are because that's how things are 99 of the time. So you're crushing on a girl, so what? She's just your 1, Paige, it'll pass."

Dylan had been right, to an extent. Paige's feelings for Ellie did pass, but they opened the floodgates on their way out. Whereas before Paige had observed other girls only in a friend-or-foe capacity, now she couldn't help but assess them sexually. Nothing so blatant as the outright ogling her male friends did, more of a lazy observation. A full of lips, the curve of a neck, a particular perfume, a laugh. The more she grew to appreciate these qualities in women, the less attractive she found them in the opposite sex. Men were too large, hard, hairy, loud, _everything. _So Marco had been right, getting ahead of himself but nailing it anyway, she was gay. But there was no way in hell she was coming out. Marco and Dylan had both taken their fair share of shit, Marco had even been beaten up just for passing through the gay side of town, but Paige knew things would be different for her.

She had worked hard to become Queen Bee, stepped over a lot of people, threw a few of them to the wolves, and she knew even after all this time there were girls who would crawl through broken glass to get to Paige's skeletons. She didn't particularly care about being on top anymore, but the position had its perks, one of which was that no one gave her shit unless they could back it up. Someone knowing she was gay was definitely enough. So, no, there would be no coming out in high school. Making friends with her inner Sappho and everything that came with it could wait until university. Of course, everything had to go all to hell.


	8. Camoflage, camoflage: Paige, pt 2

**Disclaimer: **_Psych _and all its awesomeness, including main characters who invite hoyay in and then sit and have tea time with it, belongs to Steve Franks. Please don't sue me for basically saying your boys like to have-a the sex, instead sue people who write Shawn/Lassiter slash. Please.

* * *

She'd only gotten the job for Dylan. A little after school and weekend thing to pay him back for being the best big brother ever. Who knew vigilante justice could be so expensive? She had figured on it only being a few months, just long enough to pull Dylan back from the brink of bankruptcy at the age of 18 and maybe put a little away for herself. The world, however, was a cruel, dark, and sadistic place which very much enjoyed throwing Paige's neat little corner of things into chaos. In this case, chaos was working the tall, dark, and sarcastic angle and going by the name Alex Nunez.

"All I'm saying is that if they're straight, they're doing a damn poor job acting like it."

"Are you kidding? Shawn goes out with a different woman every week. How is that at all gay?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it never lasts. He only keeps half-assedly chasing O'Hara because he knows it'll never work 'cause she's in love with the chief. And when, I ask, was the last time you saw Gus pick up a woman, or even try, for that matter?"

"Alex, come on, just because someone doesn't go out a lot it doesn't mean they're secretly pining for their best friend." Except when it did.

"_Paige, _come on. Have you seen all the shit Gus puts up with from and for Shawn? He's taken on a second job, almost been killed more than once, had his company car 'pimped,' his interests are mercilessly ripped on, and he's always stuck playing Shawn's sidekick. When look at it in the context of real life, Shawn is incredibly flawed. He's an egomaniac with no respect for Gus' property, interests, or general well-being over himself; he has massive insecurities and issues with his father; and he can be an immature jackass a lot of the time. Can you honestly say you'd put up with a person like that unless you really loved them?" Alex raised an eyebrow, challenging Paige to disagree, and Paige rolled her eyes.

"Okay, fine, I'll give you Gus because you make a freakishly over-analyzed point, but what about Shawn? I still think he's straight."

Alex shrugged. "Maybe he is, but I think he knows the truth about Gus. At least once per episode it seems like he's making some comment or putting them in a situation that totally screams 'couple. Really, really gay couple.' Maybe he's just trying to tell Gus, in his immature, stilted, Shawn-way, that he's okay with it and it's not going to change their friendship. Or maybe the writers just like putting Gus in awkward situations and making gay jokes."

Alex grinned at her and Paige felt something in her chest clench. She knew Alex was expecting a response but she was drawing a blank. Finally she spoke. "Now say it in your squeaky voice."

The brunette shoved Paige in response and started toward the back room. "Well, Princess, it's almost time to shut this place down," she said, turning back to Paige before speaking again. "I'm gonna go clean the bathrooms!" The last part came out in in a high, squeaking voice, eliciting a burst of laughter from Paige and a wink in return from Alex. She turned away again and Paige hesitated a moment before speaking up.

"if you want, I can do the bathrooms. I worked with Creepy John last night and he did basically everything. I don't know if it's just me or if he thinks _everyone _sucks at closing, but I will gladly let him do all the cleaning while I wallow in my ineptitude."

Alex made a show of looking her up and down and 'hmm'ing before she finally spoke. "Nah, it's not you. I think Creepy John just has a creepy crush on Meeri and he's trying to impress her by showing off his mad cleaning skills. But why not keep riding porcelain-free wave and leave me with Scrubbing Bubbles duty?"

Paige smirked as she passed Alex, picking up the bucket of bathroom cleaning products by her feet. "Let's just say I'm a big believer in karma after the infamous Mullet from Hell in grade nine. I figure I owe somebody for last night, so it might as well be you."

Alex shrugged and started back toward the concessions counter. "Hey, I'm not going to stop you. Just don't pass out in there playing Fume Queen."

"Your concern is touching," Paige called back over her shoulder.

"Concern nothing! Without you my chances of working with Creepy John more than once a week increase disturbingly."

Paige didn't reply as she pushed into the women's bathroom. She had no secret love for cleaning them, but the bathrooms were at least a 20 minute job that she could lose herself in and get some time to think. Things were changing, that much was clear. She and Alex had been working together for only a few months, but after the initial few weeks of settling into a new job and working with people she'd never met or barely knew, they'd quickly become close. Almost too close for Paige's taste.

It had been close to a year since the Ellie thing, and as far as Paige knew the only person who might think she was gay was Marco, but if she was reading the situation with Alex right, the other girl was definitely dropping hints. Conversations about whether TV characters were secretly in love with each other, looks that lasted a little too long, the odd hand on the shoulder or leaning in too close to speak, and the way Alex, who Paige had seen blow off her best friend with no hesitation, did almost anything Paige asked of her with no complaint. Something was going on, but whether Paige chose to acknowledge it was another matter entirely.

Fact of the matter was, she was scared. Much as she was loathe to admit it, Paige Michaelchuck, the big, the bold, the Stonewall Jackson of teenage girls, was afraid to come out of the closet. She knew if she was going to do it, it would have to be all at once, secrets were shitty like that. Either she told one person, they cracked and told another until Heather Sinclair was calling her Paige Dykelchuck to her face in the middle of the hall, or that one person somehow gave it away by acting differently around her or accidentally mentioning it in casual conversation, it all ended with her dethroned and taking five years of pent up high school girl bullshit. The only way to possibly come out and have any chance of keeping the wolves at bay was to, essentially, give a damn PSA. Stand up in the caf. and shout it to the rafters or get herself on the morning announcements and tell the entire damn school, she had to convince them she was just as strong, just as in control as ever. Which, of course, was a complete crock of shit. She was a paper tiger in this situation, illogically paranoid and anxious to the point of almost having an attack every time she was convinced someone was about to out her. She was scared. Scared of losing friends she knew wouldn't leave and status she honestly didn't care to fight for. She had gotten complacent, lazy and willing to live hiding herself because it was easier. She wasn't the same Paige that fought tooth and nail for what she wanted, whether it was the Spirit Squad, some boy to hang off her arm, or just to show people she was strong, practically a killer sometimes.

The old Paige would've steeled herself for the backlash, then made being gay the hip, cool thing. But the old Paige hadn't been seen in quite some time, not since one faithful night in September two years ago. The new Paige had gone through a severe reality check. Shallow values, a penchant for manipulation, and a nearly obsessive drive to be at the top no matter what. Key facets in old Paige's personality, wiped out and replaced by what Paige, up until this point, had considered a more easy-going, priorities straight kind of person. Now, she realized, she wasn't laid-back, she was hiding behind a goddamn wall, just like her mother always had. It protected her from letting anyone or anything get too close and disappoint her, hurt her, but it was also keeping her from really experiencing all the highs and lows of life. The old Paige was flawed, tremendously so, but at least she had a fucking spine.

"Hey, Princess, closing time. You ready to bust on outta this place?"

Paige was startled out of her self-deprecation by Alex's sudden appearance. She looked around the bathroom, slightly pleased to find she really could clean the place in her sleep, before turning back to the brunette and nodding. "Yes, totally, this polyester is starting to make my skin crawl."

"Uh huh, a classic sign your shift is up."

Paige grinned. "Let me just drop this off," she hoisted the bucket of cleaning supplies, "grab my keys, and we're out of here."

Alex frowned. "I just hope the Shitmobile deigns to grace me with its smooth ride and quiet purr tonight."

"And if it doesn't," Paige replied, "you'll just have to accept a ride from me, torturous as it may be."

The Shitmobile was Alex's 1989 maroon Ford Taurus. It only ran about half the time and was every inch the working class teenage starter car. Alex had started working at the movie theater to save up for a new car - and to help out at home, Paige suspected - but until the summer she was stuck with the Shitmobile. The car lived up to its name and refused to start, prompting a barrage of cursing from Alex under her breath and a swift kick to the door before she abruptly stopped and looked back at Paige, smirking and leaning against her own car. "Sorry about that, I just really, really hate this fucking car." Her tone was slightly subdued, almost embarrassed, and Paige couldn't help but laugh.

"Alex, please, I've said worse at one of Dylan's hockey games. Come on, it's Madame Paige's limo service for you."

"Madame Paige? That sounds like you run a brothel."

"It does not! It sounds like I run a very reliable, convenient limo service for smartasses whose cars keep dying in parking lots."

"A hooker limo service, maybe. Where do you keep 'em, Paige, the trunk? You keep those poor hookers stowed away in the trunk and only let them out to service your clients? Madame Paige, that's terrible!" She spoke the last line in her trademark Squeaky Voice and Paige swatted her on the arm.

"You dork! If you don't stop I'm going to hit something and then we'll both be car-free."

Alex stared at her. "Paige, this is a Le Baron, it's the tank of convertibles because it's made for old people."

Paige arched an eyebrow. "What, have you been hanging out with Sean Cameron lately? Suddenly you're full of all this car talk." She felt her good mood dropping off and rapidly turning to irritation.

"It's nothing," Alex shrugged. "He did some work on the Shitmobile for free, which is why it now runs half the time instead of almost none and the front passenger door opens from the outside again. He was just doing it to be a nice guy and, frankly, I could use more of them in my life."

"That's great. Really cool." She turned and smiled at Alex, but it was tight-lipped and false looking and they both knew it.

"Wait. Wait a second, you're not jealous, are you?"

"What? No! No, I am most definitely _not _jealous. Why would you think that?" She let out a nervous bark of laughter and wanted to die as soon as she heard it hit the air. Alex, however, chose to ignore it because she was a saint or some other higher power with the self-control necessary to not die of laughter at how transparent Paige was.

"That's…good. 'Cause, you know, he's got a massive crush on Ellie."

Relief flooded her and suddenly the irritation was gone and gray skies were going to clear up and all that crap. "Oh? They'd make a cute couple. Does she have any idea?"

Alex chuckled. "Ha, no. She doesn't have a clue. Please don't say anything about it to her, I want this to be payback for all the times she rather unceremoniously dumped Marco or me with one of her patented, 'Hey, dumbass, you're totally in love with so-and-so! Goodnight!' speeches."

"'All the times?' How many could there possibly be between you and Marco?" Paige swallowed, suddenly very much in need of water.

"Okay, fine, so it's only happened twice. Just rain all over my dramatic effect, why don't you? It just gets a little frustrating when Ellie is always right and knows you almost better than you know yourself."

Paige remembered her conversation with Marco and his suggestion that she was gay. "I know what you mean. Oh, hey, here's your house. Suppose I better drop you off before I end up taking you back to my place." She regretted them as soon as the words left her mouth.

Alex smirked and gave her best come hither look. "Oh? Planning to take me home, get me all liquored up and take advantage of me, eh? Oh, Madame Paige, do be gentle! I am but a delicate, Southern flower!"

Paige cracked up. Typical Alex to make something awkward for a moment before turning it into a joke. But sometimes those awkward moments seemed like the most important in the world and when they would pass Paige would find she'd been holding her breath the entire time. Now was not one of those times, however. "Okay, okay, get out of my car before you stink it all up with your cheesy acting."

"Fine, I'll just take my talents elsewhere if you don't want me." She heaved a sigh and made a dramatic flourish of exiting the car.

Paige rolled her eyes before leaning over and calling out the open window, "Goodnight, Alex." Alex made a show of turning up her nose and starting up the sidewalk to the apartment building before Paige called out again. "Hey, do you need a ride to school in the morning?"

The brunette turned around and waved Paige off. "It's cool, I can take the bus. It's what I usually do when the 'Mobile's out of commission. Thanks, anyway.

Paige persisted. "Alex, you know how I feel about you and Toronto public transportation, I'll pick you up. What time do you want me?"

Alex raised an eyebrow and smirked a little, but refrained from making any more sarcastic remarks. Finally she rolled her eyes and her shoulders sagged a bit, signaling her acquiescence in the minor battle of wills. "Eight's good. But don't come up, I'll come to you. Scratch that, I'll be waiting. Later, Paige." With that, she disappeared into the apartment building before Paige had a chance to reply.

She drove home that night feeling more self-assured and confident than she had in two years. The rape had taken a lot out of her and the trial had taken even more, but she was sick of being mollycoddled and handled with kid gloves. There was something to be said for living behind a wall, but she was a Michaelchuck, and Michaelchucks were fighters. They were also pretty damn gay, but that was really beside the point. Tomorrow was the first day of Operation Re-Grow Spine (Love is a Battlefield). Damn, but she did love Pat Benatar.


	9. Camoflage, camoflage: Alex

So there's no better excuse for my incredibly long absence than Real Life AKA college. Sorry, guys. To make up for it, you get another extra long chapter - the last on the bus, hooray! - and the tiniest contest ever.

In the chapter, there's a scene where Ellie is listening to the _Fiery Furnaces_ and Alex can hear a line from a song over the phone. The first person who can identify the song and album gets, I don't know, a shout-out of awesomeness in the next chapter.

**Music and people who are awesome and kept this chapter from stagnating completely: **Ultra-mega shout-outs to **Orange **and **Doc**. Every time I wanted to light myself or this chapter on fire, those two pulled me back from the edge. **Miss Orange **is the maddest of pimps for linking the hell out of me in all ways, and my fellow **Doctor **movie geeked and spent quite a while talking booze and making inappropriate drink name jokes with me, and they both gave their opinions and thoughts endlessly at my beck and call. _U2 - _"The Best of 1980-1990" and _The Killers - _"Sam's Town" is pretty much all I've been listening to lately.

* * *

"So does she know?" 

"Does who know what?"

"Paige. Does she know you're completely in love with her?"

Alex choked mid-gulp, barely managing to re-cap the bottle of water before dropping it as she succumbed to a fit of coughing. Within moments she was surrounded by classmates - including Paige, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere to stare at her with a concern that made Alex slightly uncomfortable and rub her arm as Ellie pounded her on the back - and Mr. Oleander, who immediately started sending people back to their seats, ordering them to give Alex space while seeming to ignore Paige completely. Finally the coughing abated and Paige stood up out of her crouched position, taking her hand back as she went. Alex noted the loss of contact and the immediate cold spot with a small frown before Oleander spoke up.

"You okay, Alex? That was pretty rough."

She ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine, just water going down the wrong way."

"You sure? Because if you need to get off and walk around, get your bearings, whatever, I can have the bus pull over."

She smiled, tight-lipped but sincere, and shook her head. Matt Oleander was way too nice a guy to be a teacher at Degrassi. "No, Mr. O, I'm totally fine now."

"Okay. Uh, be careful with that bottled water then, I guess." He backed up a few steps before nodding once then turning and walking back down the aisle to his seat surrounded by the Spirit Squad minus its fearless leader Hazel Aden, who was stuck at the front of the bus with Sean Cameron sitting next to her or, more accurately, leaning across the aisle to talk to Emma Nelson and Manny Santos. Necessity was the mother of odd seating arrangements, she thought. Paige cleared her throat and Alex felt a small wave of embarrassment go through her. One minor brush with a watery grave and she'd turned into Deep Thoughts with Alex Nunez. She turned her attention to Paige with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I guess I kind of zoned out there. What'd I miss?"

Paige returned the gesture, but it seemed tense. "It's nothing, I was just saying Mr. O's right, that was pretty intense." She reached out like she was going to touch Alex again but abruptly stopped and let her arm fall to her side before shoving her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. It was nervous, indecisive, decidedly un-Paige. Alex smiled at the balled up fists protruding from Paige's pockets before she spoke.

"I'm _fine_, Paige. _Someone_," here she cast a glare at Ellie, "just surprised me and I choked. If I have anymore water-related troubles you'll be the first person I call." She gave what she hoped was her best 'I am totally fine and not at all having an existential crisis concerning you in particular right now' reassuring smile, which Paige returned before she went back to her seat. Alex elbowed Ellie sharply.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Ellie glared at her and Alex started back in wonderment. How could someone so smart be so stupid at the same time?

"Gee, I don't know," Alex hissed. "Maybe that little thing where you told me I was in love with _Paige Michaelchuck _in the middle of a fucking _bus_ while I was ingesting liquid? Does that ring any fucking bells? Jesus, Ellie, what was that?"

Ellie shrugged apologetically. "I thought you knew. I mean, Alex, you're totally obvious."

"I am not '_obvious_' about anything, and I'm not in _love _with her."

"Sorry, I just thought maybe you could use some advice or something."

Alex scoffed. "Oh, yeah, Ellie, you're really the queen of taking your own advice. How long have you been pining away for Sean now?"

Ellie's face fell and she turned toward the window. "Low blow, Alex." Her voice was neutral, but Alex knew she'd struck a nerve. "I'm just trying to help, you don't need to be a bitch."

Yeah, it was a dick move, but desperate times and all that. Ellie had a habit of cluing people in to things they weren't ready to hear and Alex was trying very hard to deny this particular clue. Besides, she sure as hell wasn't going to talk about it on a fucking bus with their entire class within hearing range. Ellie meant well and Alex knew she would apologize, but for now she was letting the other girl stew. Like it or not, she now had Paige Michaelchuck on her mind, and Paige - even in Alex's head - would not be ignored.

* * *

Alex hated being sick. Her strong immune system was something she prided herself on, and when it let her down it really went all out. Right now she was lying on the couch, feeling like shit and watching some lame mid-afternoon talk show about girls who used to be nerds until they got makeovers and turned into complete sluts who needed paternity tests to find out who their baby daddies were. She was just about to switch back to the kleptomaniac with the wild pre-teen daughter who didn't know she was getting an intervention after her kid was dragged off to boot camp, when someone knocked on the front door. She muted the TV and stood up slowly, her arching muscles protesting, wrapped the old afghan her mother had dug out of a closet tighter around her shoulders, and went to check the door. It was probably one of Chad's asshole friends, they were about the only people besides Ellie who ever came over and they did it at weird times. Especially Roy, Roy was a prick and her gave Alex the creeps. 

She bent slightly, put her face to the peephole, and was surprised to find a short blonde instead. The blonde raised her fist to knock again, bringing Alex back to her senses. She opened the door to find Paige Michaelchuck caught by surprise, fist still in the air and a pot clutched in her other hand. Before Alex could open her mouth, Page was talking. "Alex! Hi, I was just coming to see you. Well, I guess now I'm here so it's more like I _came _to see you, which is happening right now and I'm just going to stop speaking now." She noticed her arm still up and dropped it to her side.

As usual, flustered Paige brought out the giggly side of Alex she hadn't been aware she even possessed before the blonde, but this time it turned into a fit of coughing. Finally it passed and Alex grimaced. "God, I think I lost a lung. Sorry, this stupid cold is kicking my ass. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu visit? And shouldn't you be in school?" Another thing she hated about being sick: everything she said came out in a weird, stupid sounding congested voice. Paige apparently found it delightful if her smirk was any indication.

"_I _skipped out on last period so I could whip this up for you." She brought the pot out from under her arm and presented it to Alex with a flourish. "Tada!"

"What is it?" Alex asked, making a show of eying the pot warily.

"Alex, what do you _think _it is?" Paige rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Alex grinned a little.

"If it's a boiled bunny you're never invited back to my home again. Or within five hundred feet of me."

"Alex! Eww, that's completely disgusting. I am so _not _Glenn Close. Did you even see her hair in that movie?"

Alex blinked. "Yeah, okay, you win. Picking up my _Fatal Attraction _reference _and _saying that with a straight face? You are the Master of Sarcasm, Paige Michaelchuck, and I bow to you and whatever your gift may be." She took the lid off the pot. "Oh, hey, soup. Soup is cool."

Paige rolled her eyes again, not smiling this time. "You're welcome, Alex. I'll just leave this here and let you get back to your sarcasm." She put the pot down on the table and started back toward the door.

"Paige, wait." The blonde stopped and turned around, and there was something in her eyes, something hidden below the veneer of mild irritation and boredom that Alex couldn't quite place that made her stumble briefly. "Uh, thanks. Thank you, I mean, for the soup. No one's ever made me soup when I was sick before. So, you wanna keep me and my cold company for a while, watch some slutty chicks get paternity tests?"

"God, is that what you're watching?" Paige's eyes shifted to look over Alex's shoulder and the brunette turned to see a woman screaming straight into the face of a man who just shook his head. The closed captioning read, "I **(bleep)** told you! I _told _you, you **(bleep)**! Oh, you better **(bleep)** believe you're paying **(bleep)** child support."

"Wow."

"Yeah," Paige agreed. "Now I have to stay just to save you from trash TV. So, you sit down and make yourself comfortable and _I _will bring you a bowl of Michaelchuck Brand Chicken Noodle Soup. It's a very old, very seriously family recipe passed down for generations and not just made for anyone, so you should feel very special."

"Oh, believe me, no one feels more special. You're a woman after my own heart."

And where the hell had _that _come from? If she didn't know better, which she totally did, Alex would've called it flirting. Pretty lame flirting, in fact, if she didn't know better. Alex Nunez did not flirt. She mocked, she joked, sometimes she said things purely to get a rise out of someone - mostly Paige, admittedly - but that was all in good fun. She wasn't a flirt, and she definitely wasn't someone who flirted with obviously straight girls like Paige Michaelchuck. It was sexual frustration, she decided. She'd broken up with Carla a few months ago and not getting any since had obviously effected her more than she was willing to admit. She resolved to drag Ellie out to a few of the local dyke bars that weekend, depending, of course, on whether she was still sick. She could just go down to the ravine and pick up a girl, but the kind that hung around down there were severely lacking in discretion. The place was skeezy as fuck, and if those stupid bracelets were anything to go by, so were the girls. Yeah, no thanks, Alex wasn't in the mood to get gonorrhea or some shit like that. Besides, she thought, another upshot to the bars was if she didn't pick someone up there was always watching Ellie fend off girls with her special brand of polite disinterest.

Then Paige was in front of her with a bowl of soup and a glass of juice on a tray. The juice surprised Alex, who had been fairly sure the only liquids in the fridge the last time she checked were milk, water, and beer. Could Paige have brought it? No. Stop right there, back the truck off Girlfriend Street and get back on Just Friends Lane. Because that's what Paige was, just a friend, and the juice had obviously been behind something and Alex just hadn't seen it. She vowed to get laid that weekend come hell or high water. That was all she needed, just a release to get this pent up shit out of her system and then everything would go back to normal and she could stop feeling weird around Paige all the time. Okay, not_ all _the time, but more lately, and -

Paige was sitting next to her and pulling half the afghan over herself and then her knee bumped into Alex's and neither of them moved and shit shit shit Paige was looking at her and might have said something but Alex had no idea what it was so she just blurted out the first smartass remark that came to her.

"Paige, is this Progresso?" And Paige smacked her lightly on the arm, called her a jerk, and settled into the couch. But she still didn't move her leg. So Alex didn't either. Instead, she listened to Paige rip into the slutty women on TV and ate her soup. The weekend couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

"So what are you bringing?" Alex was currently crouched in front of her bookshelf, eyes scanning through rows of movies, all of which she was quickly becoming aware were horror movies. 

"I don't know, maybe _Hellraiser_?" Paige had invited her over for a Screw Valentine's Day, Let's Just Get Tipsy and Watch Movies About People Lamer Than Us night.

"S&M demons and disturbing sex flashbacks? Just what kind of message are you trying to send, Alex?" She rolled her eyes. As usual, Ellie was little to no help.

"Ha. Since you're the authority on Paige-appropriate movies, what do you suggest? Seriously, I'm open to anything because right now I'm staring at _Hard Rock Zombies_ and wondering what the hell could have ever possessed me to buy this." She strongly suspected pot and a Saturday afternoon spent wandering around garage sales had something to do with it.

"Just calm down for a second and make a logical decision, what else do you have?" Alex rolled her eyes again. Logic was Ellie Nash's answer to everything.

"I'll have you know that 'Calm' is my middle name." It was actually May, after her grandmother, but that was completely beside the point right now, which was...the completely bizarre shit she could hear coming over the phone. "What the hell are you listening to?"

"The Fiery Furnaces." Ellie's tone conveyed the kind of unintentional music snob attitude that anyone should be able to identify one of her fuck-all obscure bands by only one line (in this case it was _"And he hated women."_). Alex was almost surprised not to hear the other girl add a "Duh" at the end. "Uh oh, I think I just heard something break, Mom must be home. I'll talk to you later, Alex. Good luck on your date."

"It's not a-" but Ellie had already hung up. "Date," Alex finished, frowning slightly. It wasn't a date. It was hanging out, watching movies, rejecting Valentine's Day and all the corporate consumerist bullshit that came with it in favor of watching people get killed in ways that were far too elaborate to be realistic. There was nothing remotely date-like about it. So why was she nervous?

-----

20 minutes later Alex was standing outside the Michaelchuck residence, backpack slung over one shoulder, wondering if it was too late to bail and call Paige with an excuse. From the way her stomach kept rolling over on itself, she wouldn't have been surprised to find out she really did have the food poisoning she was currently making up symptoms for. "Fuck, Nunez, when did you turn into such a pussy?" She hadn't. Or she wasn't. Fuck, the point was she had been waiting all week for this, one stupid joke from Ellie and her own mind-fucking were not going to fuck it up. She took a deep breath, puffing out her chest. Let it out, deflated. "Fuck it." She rang the doorbell.

After what seemed like an eternity and another brush with making a run for it, the door swung open, revealing Dylan Michaelchuck, Paige's older brother, all blond curls and sly smile beckoning her into the house. "Paige should be down in a minute. She's been in a surprisingly good mood all week, guess I know why now." He gave her a knowing smirk and an appraising look that made Alex slightly uncomfortable. It was no secret Dylan was gay, and word had spread fast when he started dating Marco, despite the Italian boy's best efforts. Still, there was something about the look that distinctly felt like a judgment, almost as if Dylan was sizing her up, deciding whether she was good enough for something... Like his little sister. Before she could take the thought any further, Paige's voice cut in.

"Gee, Dyl, thanks for letting me know Alex is here. I could've come downstairs just now in a towel or something." _Don't picture Paige in a towel. Don't picture Paige in a towel. Don't picture Paige in a towel._ She pictured Paige in a towel. _Goddamn it._

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Paige, I can't even come up with a reason for you to come downstairs in nothing but a towel. Well, except some kind of Mrs. Robinson seduction thing, but I am not going there." Alex's mind went there. _Fucking hell._ Suddenly the idea of being struck deaf and blind didn't seem so bad. _Might as well throw mute in there too, get the complete Helen Keller set._

"All I'm saying is that it could've happened and then poor Alex would've been totally embarrassed."

"Oh, yeah. Totally." There was another one of those knowing smirks and Alex went from considering the pros and cons of being blind, deaf, and mute to wondering how much time said blind, deaf, and mute person would get for murder and whether a case for justifiable homicide could be built on smirks. Finally, it seemed he was leaving. "…Pizza money's on the fridge, dad left the number for his hotel and you have my cell number if anything happens, your Baccardi's in the freezer, and, Paige? Big Brother Booze Buying is a privilege, not a right. If I come home to find some giant rager with half of Degrassi in the living room you're cut off. Got it?"

Paige rolled her eyes, smiled, and gave the elder Michaelchuck a slight shove toward the door. "Got it. Now get out of here, go take your _boyfriend _out for a wonderful night, and tell him I said hi." Promising one more time that there would be trouble if he found the house trashed when he got home, Dylan left. Turning around, Paige announced, sounding suddenly exhausted. "Plans might have changed just a teensy weensy bit, hon. I just got off the phone with Ashley right before you got here, and apparently Mr. Wonderful, Craig Manning, just keeps living up to his name. He bought a dozen roses and wrote her a song." Her tone conveyed boredom and the smallest hint of disgust, but Alex could hear the jealousy hidden underneath. Before she could say anything, Paige continued. "So that just reminded me that even though I get to spend the night hanging out with the second coolest girl at Degrassi, no one wrote _me_ a song. So now we have to get drunk and it's _your _job to entertain me so I forget all about my song-free state." Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Paige sauntered past the to this point speechless Alex, who could only come up with, "Who's number one?" It was, in retrospect, a stupid question.

-----

Two hours had passed. They'd done the requisite ordering of pizza and mixing of drinks and Alex played bartender. Keeping Dylan's promise in mind - and figuring it could extend to finding his little sister passed out in a pool of her own vomit - she'd kept the blonde's drinks on the weaker side. What she hadn't counted on, however, was the fact that Paige, for all her swagger and bravado, was a world-class lightweight.

"Aleeex, what are you doing? I want to watch another movie!" She was also kind of a demanding drunk.

"I'm just getting some water, hold on." Well, that was _half_-true. She was getting water, just not for her. She'd made the executive decision to cut Paige off for the night after they watched _The Changeling _and the other girl kept clutching at her the entire time. Alex smiled slightly; she had to admit it _was_ kind of cute the way every little noise and shadow made Paige jump. What most definitely _wasn't _cute, she recalled with a grimace, was the accompanying shriek directed into her ear that followed each and every jump. She emptied the remainder of a can of Sprite into her glass. Paige might have been on her way back to sobriety (or at least avoiding a hangover), but Alex was half-way to pleasantly buzzed. Hell, it wasn't like she'd never dealt with people worse off than the blonde she'd left splayed on the couch while under the influence. A memory came to her, unbidden, of walking into the apartment, stoned, only to find her mother sitting at the kitchen table with a broken nose gushing blood and the asshole responsible - Stan, maybe, or John - long gone. The night had gone from pretty good to a three hour nightmare in the emergency room, and wouldn't you just fucking know it, that cocksucker Stan or John or whoever the fuck just fucking showed up two days later, all flowers and apologies and "Emily, baby, you know I'd never hurt you, I just lose it sometimes," and, of course, she took him back every fucking time until, for whatever reason, Enough Was Enough and -

"Alex? What's up, I thought you were just getting water?" And suddenly Paige was right behind her, voice warm and just a little bit confused and Alex would've sworn in that moment the girl was sober.

"Yeah, sorry," she cleared her throat, "just got distracted, I guess." She shook her head, swallowing hard when she felt Paige's hand on her back. Christ, it was like she knew Alex was taking a trip down Shitty Memory Lane. "Here," she handed the water to Paige, "I got you some, too."

And just like that, the moment was over, tension gone, and the blonde's expression shifted from concern to the kind of elated joy even the smallest of gestures can bring out in the drunk. "That's so sweet! You're so good to me, Alex."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the best. What do you want to watch?"

"What else did you bring?"

Alex reached into her backpack, digging through texts, D. Harlan Wilson's Stranger on the Loose, CDs, notebooks, and loose papers until she finally found the other two movies she'd brought. _Christ, I really need to clean this thing out sometime. _"All right, we've got the original _A Nightmare on Elm Street _and _Sleepaway Camp._ So, Miss Michaelchuck, do you want something good with a little bit of unintentional cheese, or the ultimate in corny 80s slasher flick guilty pleasures?"

Paige was silent for a bit before she asked, "Which one's supposed to be the good one again?"

"You pain me, Michaelchuck. …_Nightmare's _the good one."

"Okay, let's watch the other one."

"_Sleepaway Camp_ it is. Be prepared for the most fucked up ending ever."

-----

An hour and a half later the movie was over and Paige was staring at her. Finally she spoke. "I…was not prepared for that, and I don't think I ever could be."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just thought it would be cheesy and fun with minimal gore. Obviously I was wrong."

"No, it was horrible." Alex started to get up, only for Paige to pull her back down next to her. "What I _meant_ to say was it was horrible but funny. I'm just not sure I'll ever be able to sleep again without having Aunt Martha-themed nightmares." Paige smiled at her. "Forgive me for insulting your movie?"

"Hmm, what's in it for me?"

Paige arched an eyebrow. "For one thing, I won't make a big deal out of you sneaking more of my booze." Busted.

"Shit, Paige, I'm sorry." She paused before asking, "How'd you know?"

Paige smirked. "I'm not blind, hon."

Alex squeezed her eyes shut and ran her hands through her hair. "Fuck. I'm such an ass. Okay, you know what? I'm just gonna go. I'm sorry for being an asshole and drinking all your liquor or whatever, I'll buy you another bottle or something to make up for it. I'll see you on Monday, Paige. Or not, whatever, it's cool if you don't-"

"Hey." Paige pulled her back down on the couch again, an action that was quickly becoming a routine, Alex noted. "You're not going anywhere, hon. It's my turn to ply you with water. Plus, we've still got one more movie to watch, you think I'm going to miss seeing your idea of 'good'?"

"It is good! Come on, _A Nightmare on Elm Street _is a classic piece of horror cinema, they even call New Line Cinema 'the house that Freddy built.'" Paige got up and started toward the kitchen.

"Whatever you say, Lost Weekend. Cue it up, I'm getting you a glass of water."

* * *

Alex remembered the night clearly. She'd woken up at one o'clock in the morning to find the credits rolling by and Paige laying face-up in her lap, mouth half open, quietly snoring. She smiled when she thought about it, feeling that familiar tight clench in her chest that accompanied thoughts of Paige. Yeah, all right, she'd admit it. She did love the blonde, but good did that do her? What could she fucking do with that? It wasn't like she could walk up to Paige and just ask her to go out sometime, fuck, Alex hadn't even gotten up the courage to come out to her yet. Besides, she was a Nunez. Nothing went simply for a Nunez, and gorgeous, sweet, funny, intelligent blondes did not magically dyke out for them. So…that was it then, no way, no day, no gay. Fucking rhyming. Fucking _Ellie. _This was all her fault, always forcing people to accept they were gay or in love or alcoholics or some shit. She looked over at the girl in question, who was asleep, and stifled a yawn. She hadn't been tired an hour or ago or even when she got on the bus, but all of a sudden she could barely keep her eyes open. The last thing she saw before she passed out was nearly all of the students on the other side of the bus asleep. 


	10. Here comes the man

Explanatory author's note at the end.

* * *

Life had never been particularly kind to Alex Nunez. In fact, if she was being completely honest, it had been a bitch. Between her father walking out when she was 13 and the myriad of assholes who filled his place with bruises and broken bones, her mother's rapid descent into functional alcoholism, and the whole gay thing, Alex figured she was batting around .200. Of course, that wasn't even taking into account the rather distressing conclusion she'd reached on the bus, which was that she was stupidly, hopelessly, _painfully _in love with one of her best friends, the ultra-straight, ultra-unattainable Paige Michaelchuck. Alex was pretty sure unrequited love was worth at least 10 points off her metaphorical batting average. Or something. Fuck it, she didn't even like baseball. That wasn't even the point, it was--wait. Wait just a goddamn minute here, where the hell was she and what the hell was going on?

For the first time Alex was fully aware that something about her current situation wasn't quite right. The brunette looked around the room slowly as confusion turned to concern. She and the other 30 students who made up class B were in a classroom, but even in the limited light coming off the sodium arc lights outside she could tell it was a room she'd never been in. However, before her slowly growing anxiety could become full-blown paranoia, her attention was drawn to a low groan from her left. It was Paige, slumped across her own desk and just starting to come to, as were most of the others.

"Alex?" Though she sounded groggy and confused, Paige's voice cut through the haze that still seemed to be holding onto Alex and brought the brunette back to her senses. "What's going on, why is it all dark? Are we in New York yet?"

Alex shook her head, eyes still casting around the other students, looking for someone to provide her a clue as to just what _was _going on, coming up with nothing. "I don't know what this is, but I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." She watched over Paige's shoulder as Sean Cameron shook Emma Nelson awake.

"That's not funny." It wasn't, of course, but it was the first thing that came to her and she blurted it out without thinking. Now, instead of reassuring Paige, or at least not aggravating the situation, she'd pissed the girl off and very possibly freaked her out.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Paige, I wasn't thinking and--"

Paige cut her off, "Alex, what is that on your neck?" Her hands flew up to her neck immediately. She'd never been claustrophobic or anything of the like, but making contact with the smooth metal band and running her fingers the entire way around it suddenly made Alex feel like she was being choked.

"Paige," she said slowly, "you've got one, too. I think, I think we all do." They stared at each other as Paige fingered the band and Alex did her best not to let the confusion and fear she felt come through her eyes.

"I see you're still a quick study, Miss Nunez. Nice to know some people are. But please don't touch the collar, I'd hate to lose anyone before the game even started." The voice, distinctly male, was also familiar, setting off a wave of murmurs among the students as they tried to identify its owner. Suddenly it dawned on Alex, hitting her like a ton of bricks and bringing with it a wash of memories.

"Mr. Simpson?" Alex heard a low "oh, shit" come up from a boy somewhere behind her before the lights flocked on and the man replied.

"Got it in one, Miss Nunez." She blinked furiously, throwing one hand up and squinting as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescence. When they finally did, the first thing she noticed was Simpson's appearance. He looked thinner, harder, the easy-going, small smile she remembered had morphed into a smirk that verged on a sneer, and he was dressed from head to toe in black, right down to the tie cinched around his neck (she was almost positive she'd never seen him in a necktie a day in her life). The other thing that stood out was the badge hanging from the left breast pocket of his suit coat featuring the familiar red maple leaf insignia. Simpson was with the government.

"For those who don't remember me as well as Miss Nunez, let's catch up. My name is Archibald Simpson and for almost three years I was your Media Immersion and homeroom teacher. Unfortunately I had a little accident and had to change jobs. Okay, 'had to' isn't quite right, but how many of you would want to keep teaching after one of your students jammed a knife into you?" He paused, his eyes sweeping across the group slowly before he turned around, picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on the board behind him. "But rest assured that I've put all of that behind me now. I'm ready to make a fresh start, get back into teaching. And guess what? You guys are going to be my first class. Let's get down to it, shall we? Who can tell me what the BR Act is?" He pointed to the words on the board but no one spoke. "Nobody? Come on, guys, doesn't anyone follow the news anymore? Miss Van Zandt, yes."

Alex searched for Liberty Van Zandt and found her two rows to her right and three seats back. It was a widely accepted fact that Liberty was the smartest girl at Degrassi, and while some resented her for it, Alex silently thanked the girl for stepping up to pull their collective asses out of the fire. She didn't want to know how Simpson would react to 40 blank stares and tight lips. Liberty cleared her throat.

"Well, the Millennium Education Reform Act, also known as the BR Act, was adopted 12 years ago from our allies in the Republic of Greater East Asia, where it's been in place for more than 50 years. In Canada, the act states that each year--" Suddenly Simpson hurled the piece of chalk he was still holding across the room at two girls huddled close together on the far left of the room.

"Hey!" It was Heather Sinclair and Hazel Aden. Hazel had made Heather co-captain of the Spirit Squad after Paige's abrupt departure and Sinclair had been attached to Aden at the hip ever since. Hazel rounded on Simpson, glaring, but it was the teacher who spoke.

"Miss Aden, Miss Sinclair, if you have something to say about the Millennium Education Reform Act, by all means, share with the class. Otherwise, I would highly advise you to shut up and pay attention, rudeness will not be tolerated in my classroom. Now, Miss Van Zandt, you were saying?"

Liberty swallowed and cleared her throat again. When she spoke it sounded like her vocal chords were wrestling an orange. "Uh, yes, I was saying that the act says that each year one class of grade 11 students is selected from each province and forced to…to fight to the death until there's only one left. Battle Royale." Her voice cracked and she slumped back in her seat, looking drained and on the edge of tears. The classroom erupted.

"She's full of shit, she's making it up!"

"I want to go home, I want to see my parents. You can't keep me here if I want to go home!"

"This is bullshit, you can't do this!"

"Why are you doing this? Where's Mr. Oleander?"

Simpson remained silent through the calamity, but with a quirk of his finger a soldier by the open door of the classroom nodded and three more filed in, armed with large, semi-automatic guns. The soldiers stepped forward, raised their weapons, and unloaded first a line across the ceiling, then across the floor as the students who had stood up and began advancing on Simpson fell back, some dropping to the floor, some pressed back against the wall. For her part, Alex sat in stony silence, too shocked to speak, let along move.

Once again, it was Paige who brought her back, this time with a cry of pain that cut through the rapid fire of the guns and the shrill hysterics of the students. The blonde had been struck in the leg, mid-calf, by a stray bullet. Alex could see the blood seeping through Paige's jeans, staining them a dark red as it spread. It reminded her, sickeningly, of the time one of her mother's asshole boyfriends had broken her nose. Alex had come home from Ellie's still a little stoned and singing a song about a sadistic dentist under her breath (that was the night she discovered Ellie's secret love for musicals when she was high) only to find her mother sitting at the kitchen table with a bloody washcloth pressed up to her face and an open beer sitting next to her. They ended up spending three hours in the emergency room waiting to get Emily's nose reset. As far as Alex knew, the fucker who broke it had never shown his face around their apartment again. But now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about the good old days when no one she knew got shot, now was the time when Paige was bleeding all over the fucking floor.

"Paige. Paige, are you with me? Look at me." She did, and she looked like shit.

"Alex, what is this? I mean, what the _fuck _is this? He-he-he fucking_shot me._"

"we're going to take care of this, okay? We're going to fix you up, but for right now I need to stay calm. Just keep cool and put pressure on it, all right? Can you just stay with me and keep pressure on that for now?" Paige nodded vigorously and clamped her hand over her leg. Before Alex could say another word a boy rushed at Simpson, screaming.

"You fucking bastards! I'll kill you! I swear to God, I'll kill you!" the teacher sidestepped the charge with ease and the soldiers raised their rifles but Simpson waved them off. The boy lunged again and Simpson dodged again, but this time he brought a knife out of his jacket pocket, a switchblade, and slashed the boy across the back of the leg. The boy yelped and began limping around in a circle and Simpson took the offensive, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and holding him out in front of the class. It was JT Yorke.

Simpson shoved him toward a desk. "Sit down, Mr. Yorke, and don't do anything stupid or next time I'll let them shoot you."

"Fuck you," JT spat, careful not to sit down on his injured thigh.

"JT, don't be an idiot, man! She's not worth it! She's not worth your fucking _life!_" Another boy, Alex thought it might have been Toby Isaacs, called from the back.

"I would advise you to take that advice to heart, Mr. Yorke. As for the rest of you, you can thank this young man. It's people like him that are turning this country to shit. They have no respect, no concern for others, no sense of responsibility. Your generation's rotten and something needs to be done about it. So our government, sensible folks that they are, got together and looked at how other countries handle their youth problems. Unfortunately for you, they decided to go with our allies, the Republic of Greater East Asia's, method and passed a BR Act of their own 12 years ago. Each year one grade eleven class per province is selected by impartial lottery and they are, as Miss Van Zandt said, instructed to fight to the death until only one student remains. I heard someone ask about your teacher, Mr. Oleander--" Simpson whipped around and suddenly Hazel Aden staggered and dropped to the floor, the instructor's knife planted square between her eyes. Once again the classroom erupted in screaming and chaos, but this time it wasn't the soldiers who silenced the group, it was another student, Rick Murray.

"Shut up! I want to hear this. What happened to Mr. Oleander?"

Simpson smiled grimly. "Mr. Oleander disagreed quite vehemently with the selection of Class B for Ontario's game. So strongly, in fact, that we were forced to take certain…actions in order to assure he wouldn't become a problem. Now, I don't want to show you kids his body and I'm sure you don't want to see it, so let's just skip that part." He walked up to Hazel's body and crouched down. "Besides, you've got Miss Aden here instead," he said, before he pulled the knife out of her forehead. He stood up, pulling out a handkerchief, and wiped the knife off before retracting the blade, folding the kerchief, and pocketing both. "Your parents have already been informed of your whereabouts and status in the game, so don't expect anyone to come for you and don't try to call anyone, cell phones are strictly prohibited and won't work out here anyway. What I'm trying to say, guys, is that this is very real and there is no way to get out of it. Now, Ontario's BR Committee has gone to the luxury of making a video to fully explain the rules of the game and what's expected of you, but before we start are there any more questions?" Simpson nodded and pointed to a boy near the back, "Yes, Mr.…"

The boy stood up, and cleared his throat before speaking. "Murray. Rick Murray."

"Yes, Mr. Murray?"

"One, if I win can I go home? And two, how do I know if I've won?"

"Whomever wins will be allowed to go home, yes, as long as everyone else is dead. An announcement will be made when the game is over. Any more questions?" No one spoke. "All right, then, on with the video."

JT Yorke suddenly sprang to his feet. "This is fucking insane! He just killed a girl, why are you all just sitting there?! We've got to do something, we've got to tell someone! You guys, come on, we're gotta get out of here!"

"JT, sit down and shut up," Toby Isaacs yelled.

JT rounded on him, "I'm going to fucking die anyway, Toby! According to him we all are!" He pointed at Simpson, who stared back impassively.

"Mr. Yorke, sit down. This is your last warning."

JT whipped his head around to Simpson, still pointing. "_Fuck you!_You're nothing but a goddamn _murderer! _Come on, guys," his voice took on a pleading, desperate tone. "If we work together we can find a way out of this." When no one moved he screamed and ran at Simpson once again. It was a poor, limping attempt the teacher dodged easily and turned on the boy, grabbing him by the back of his shirt again and throwing him to the floor, then pulling a remote out of another jacket pocket and pressing a button. Suddenly the metal collar around JT's neck lit up and began beeping.

"I would advise the rest of you to keep your distance from Mr. Yorke."

People all but fell out of desks trying to get as far from JT as possible, pressing against the back wall and pushing the frantic boy away from them as he screamed and begged for help, thrashing about the room and pulling at the collar in vain. The beeping and flashing of the collar gained speed and Alex tightened her arm around Paige, trying to protect the girl from what she knew was coming. Finally the beeps reached one continuous tone and JT stopped still, hysteria and fear clouding his eyes, before his neck exploded and he dropped to the floor, dead. Alex felt blood splatter across her face and arms and a wave of nausea went through her as the coppery stench of it filled the room.

Simpson clapped his hands once, causing a jolt to go through the class. "All right, then! Video time, everyone back to your seats." The students shuffled back to their desks silently. With two of their own dead all doubt as to the validity of Simpson's words had been erased and a dull shock had settled over the group. They no longer acted as individuals, the corpses on the floor served as examples of where rebellion would get those with a mind for it. Instead, they simply reacted as a group, blending together to form the entity known as Class B.

A soldier pushed a television on a cart into the room and turned it on, the BR logo flickering to life on the screen before it was replaced by a tinny fanfare and the film's title.

"**The Proper Way to Fight a Battle Royale!**

**Brought to You By: The BR Committee of Ontario and the Royal Canadian Government."**

Suddenly the glaringly red hair and heavily made up face of pop star Alexz Johnson appeared on the screen and Alex had to bite back a bark of laughter. She wondered if anyone else felt like their sanity was being raped.

"**Hi, I'm Alexz Johnson, and I'm here today to tell you how to properly fight - and hopefully win - a Battle Royale. First, let's start with the basics; what is a Battle Royale?**

"**A Battle Royale, or a BR as they're more commonly called, is a last man standing competition, sort of like King of the Hill. BR competitors such as yourselves fight to the death until only one player remains alive and that player is declared the winner. But, Alexz, I hear you asking, how am I supposed to fight when I don't even have a weapon? Whoa there, cowboy, there are a few more things we need to go over before we get to that part."**

A computerized image of an island, roughly spherical in shape with a grid of intersecting lines cutting through it, appeared on the screen behind the singer.

"**Right now you guys are on this island. Specifically, you're here," **a square of land near the upper right side turned red. **"We've taken the liberty of evacuating all the citizens so you've got free reign over the place. You see these lines running through the island? Well, that's because every six hours your instructor is going to be announcing which sectors are going to become _danger zones. _What that means is that if you're in a sector and it turns into a danger zone you need to _haul butt _or else…BOOM!****The necklace you're wearing will explode."**

Several of the students' hands flew to their necks, seemingly having just become aware of the collar. Alex fingered her own briefly.

"**Let me explain a little bit about the necklaces. They're 100 waterproof, shockproof, and permanent. We use them to track your movements around the island and your heart rate and they can be triggered from anywhere, so if you try to escape, you know what. Oh! One more thing about danger zones: 20 minutes after everyone's left the school will automatically become the first danger zone, so get out of there quick!" **20 minutes. 20 minutes to get herself and Paige away from the school and hopefully anyone who might be hanging around. Fuck.

"**Okay, on to the part I know you've all been waiting for: your gear. Each of you will be provided a bag of supplies containing the following items: food, water, a compass and map, a flashlight, and a weapon. The weapons are randomly selected to eliminate natural advantages, so you might get lucky or you might not." **She reached into the green duffel sitting on the counter next to her and pulled out an axe.

"**Whoa! This one's _super _lucky! Oh, by the way, this game has a few time constraints. If there's no winner within three days, all the collars will explode automatically and then nobody wins. And if no one does within 24 hours, all the collars explode automatically. So since we're here, let's all fight hard and make this the best BR it can be, okay?" **Simpson stopped the video abruptly, an act for which Alex was infinitely grateful, the singer's cheerful attitude and morbid subject matter grating at her nerves, and the soldier from earlier wheeled the television back out of the room.

"The order in which you leave has been chosen by random lottery, boy-girl, with two minutes between each student. When I call your name step forward, receive your bag, and exit. Do not dawdle. Male student number one, Richard Murray."

Rick grabbed his own pack in one hand, dashed forward, catching the pack thrown at him by another soldier, and proceeded to trip before scrambling to his feet and darting out of the room.

One by one students left the classroom. Some of them Alex knew closely, like Marco, Ellie, and Sean; others in passing or not at all, like Darcy Edwards and Mitchell Sullivan. Then there were the two "transfer students," as Simpson called them. They had been in the room the entire time, silently blending into the corners and waiting for their numbers to come up.

The first, boy #5 Jason Hogart, had an air of familiarity to him that Alex couldn't quite place and it made her uneasy. When his name was called he all but leapt out of the crouched position he'd taken retying his boots, catching his bag on the run and disappearing, here and gone in a matter of seconds. Heather Sinclair had just left when Hogart reappeared, throwing the pack down and demanding "his" bag from the soldier passing the duffels out. He bumped into the other transfer, boy #6 Peter Stone, on the way out and the two exchanged an icy stare that elicited a chuckle from Simpson. "As you can see, they're rather dangerous. Be nice to them and you might live longer."

Alex shuddered involuntarily. Hogart was intimidating, yes, but something about Stone set her teeth on edge. He wore the black jacket, slacks, and white dress shirt of Bardell, a Catholic school on Toronto's west side and one of Degrassi's biggest basketball rivals, but the shaggy blond hair hanging in his eyes, worn Converse All Stars he wore, and easy stroll suggested complete comfort, as though Stone were in his element.

'_He's a ringer,' _was the first thought that came to Alex's mind. _'They brought him in to make sure people play the game. That or he's out of his fucking mind and volunteered.' _Watching the boy stroll out of the classroom, pack slung over his shoulder, whistling an upbeat tune, Alex found herself deeply afraid of either option.

The list of students continued on with little incidence. Ashley Kerwin threw her pack at Simpson when the time came and stormed out, yelling over her shoulder that Craig knew where to find her. Emma Nelson walked right up to the former teacher and spit at his feet before jogging off with her duffel and backpack. It hit Alex after the girl was gone that it was her mother Simpson had been engaged to what felt like a lifetime ago. She wondered if Emma's gesture of defiance had been leveled at a father figure turned monster of a man who'd walked out on his family. Alex hoped it was the latter. She knew what living with both were like and the second had proven infinitely easier.

"Alexandra Nunez."

Her head snapped up. So this was it then. It was no dream, no elaborate joke or mindfuck prank. Nevertheless, Alex felt as if time had lost its meaning, like she was moving underwater. She looked at Simpson, smirk gone, face impassive. She looked at the soldiers, nothing more than anonymous guns, waiting for her to take her pack and get out. She looked at Paige, staring back, panic clear in her eyes, and knew what had to be done. She would protect the blonde, take her as far as she could. If it came down to it she would kill to ensure Paige's safety. And if they made it to the end, the final two, Alex knew she would take her own life for the blonde.

She took a deep breath, leaned toward the girl and whispered, "I'll wait for you," before slinging her backpack over one shoulder, catching the duffel that was thrown at her, and taking off down the hall.

**40 students remaining. **

* * *

So it's been…a few months. Long story short I've been in school and that really doesn't leave a lot of time for this or **Ninja of the Night. **Also, I'm pretty sure my muse ran off to Vegas with**Doc's **and had a big gay wedding. But they're back now and crashing on my couch, so the murderous teenagers and wild, sexy adventures of Dr. Sex Walrus are back in action. So just bear with me because the shit is about to hit the fan.

Now I promised very special shout-outs to whoever guessed the Mystery Lyrics in the last chapter, so, **Doesn'tMeanMuch, pisces iscariot, **and **unleashmysoul, **you're all fabulous. Now,**unleash**, you asked about the timeline and I'm going to do my best to explain it in all its cracktastic glory. This pretty much takes place in the present day, no crazy 2005 or 2025 timeline, and in my mind I imagine them looking basically like they did in season 5. The flashbacks kind of jump around, but for the recent ones think season 4-ish, the ones during the Simpson Stabbing period think season 2-3.

Shit's going to start going down here and you're going to see the effects that this AU world has had on some characters pretty soon. Hope you're as excited as I am for what's in store.


End file.
